I think there’s something to be said for consistency, both good and bad, and The Project Hate is most definitely a consistent band. You can almost guarantee that each new album will sound remarkably similar to the previous one, there will be guest appearances en masse, it will more than likely be released on a different label than the one before it, and many critics will wet themselves over it while lamenting how criminally overlooked the band is. Surprise! Nothing’s changed, and it doesn’t really have to, but at this point I’m seriously beginning to think their creative wellspring of blasphemies is in serious need of a better filtration system.

Nobody wants The Project Hate to reinvent themselves, because they’re really not doing anything wrong on The Lustrate Process per se. The production is good, the actual performances are typically fantastic in the musicianship department, but there’s something very bloated and phoned-in about the songwriting that’s difficult to ignore. The nearly thirteen-minute leadoff track “Descend Into The Eternal Pits Of Possession” is everything you should expect from this band; a combination of Jonna Enckell’s gorgeous operatic vocals and Grave’s Jorgen Sandstrom’s explosive roars, some industrial techno beats, ripping guitar tones, and fiery Anti-Christian sentiment at the core. Business as usual, and that’s the entire problem.

One of my biggest pet peeves is how Hollywood designs its movie promos in such a way that once you see the trailer for a film, you’ve basically seen the whole damn thing, including the ending and every dramatic twist and turn along the way. That’s exactly what The Lustrate Process does here once the massive opening song finally finishes. Unlike Nile who, considering their band name, pretty much have no choice but to perform a very specific style of Egyptian death metal while doing their best to expand upon and refresh it, The Project Hate have just rerecorded their last three albums, and gave away the ending to everything within the first three minutes. There are no surprise twists and turns, no new flavors, and no new colors. They simply need a facelift, because there’s still something awfully beautiful hiding underneath all these saggy old mounds of flesh. This staleness makes it nearly impossible to even go into detail about the music, because it’s literally like describing a third or fourth remake of Dawn Of The Dead where the cast and setting changes, but the actions throughout remain concretely solidified in frustrating predictability.

Now if you’re a huge fan of the band, of course I’m sure you’ll find plenty here to entertain yourself, because you already know exactly what to expect. The song structures are epic and overflowing with God-hating venom, the contrasts between Enckell’s stunning cleans and various guest death belches (Martin Van Drunen being the most notable and memorable) are sure to please, and the ferocity of the more adrenaline-driven blast sections is still a strong weapon in their arsenal of textured, grandiose death metal. The closest thing to a surprise I can hear is a guest spot by the seemingly everywhere Christian Alvestam (who sounds great, as always), but beyond his contribution, it’s cut-and-paste city around these parts.

I take no pleasure in writing these things, mostly because I have a huge amount of respect and admiration for every member of this immensely capable outfit, but they keep serving up the exact same Shepherd’s Pie without switching up the filling or spices. Sacrificing such a prolific output, it would be great to see the band retreat for a few years with absolutely no activity, recharge their batteries, and release an album truly worthy of their great talents, because at this point they’re just spinning their wheels. If you love this band, buy the album, because you’ll get what you came for. If you only like The Project Hate, you might find yourself in the same irksome boat as I am by having to write about it (this isn’t my first review of them), because you could save yourself a lot of time and a little bit of money by just breaking out their not-very-old back catalog instead. May Lord K forgive me, but I think it’s time for this act to take a well deserved nap, and awake with a fresher outlook once they’ve gotten a proper bit of rest. Nighty-nite.